The 100th Games: Image Is Everything
by Blue Eyes Arch Angel
Summary: 'Our self image, strongly held, essentially determines what we become'-Maxwell Maltz-Discontinued
1. The Quell

I just can't help but admire President Snow, though why I do is somewhat indeterminable. It could be her beauty, with the long luscious white hair that reaches her ankles, that ivory skin, pale blue eyes that gaze softly but holds ten times the strength of steel. Maybe it's the way she moves, elegant like a swan yet with all the intimidation of a soldier. But then again, it could be her personality. That admirable mental strength coupled with the delicate voice of an angel, the way she reluctantly but honourably took the place of her grandfather Cornelius to rule over our glorious nation. Yes, I think that's it. I've always had respect for our former president as much as I do for his daughter.

It's so very hard not to speak whilst she checks over her looks in the mirror. Though she's never normally a vain person, the president is one that must ensure she is perfect when addressing the entire nation of Panem. She fiddles with the dress a little more, then the pale blue hair flower and finally she sighs and her shoulders drop in relaxation.

"Cedra?" my lady requests.

"Yes Miss Snow?"

"I've told you before, do call me Claudia"

"Of course Miss Claudia, what is it you wanted?"

She doesn't turn her face, but she continues to speak in her quiet tone.

"This is the first quarter quell since the failure of the 75th games, you recall why?" she asks. I tense up at the subject. The failed games aren't something that is normally discussed so openly. They're often spoken in hushed tones, for fear the story might entice another rebellion. But this is my lady and my president asking so I must reply.

"It was the victors quell. The two district twelve tributes, Katniss and Peeta, had by this point become the symbols of a soon to be uprising. Unbeknownst to our president, those working around him and with the two tributes had become part of this rebellion. Stylists like Cinna betrayed their nation. Several tributes were evacuated by the rebels from the arena and taken to the underground district 13. However, by this point our president had gathered enough Intel about this, and bombed district 13 nice the tributes were delivered, thus eliminating the problem. District 12 were never given their punishment however, as President Snow died shortly from old age" and thus I conclude.

"I'm impressed by your knowledge Cedra, but then again that is why I hired you as my personal assistant." she says with a little giggle, but as she twirls round her face grows solemn again.

"Though my grandfather never delivered those punishments, I did. District twelve's security has increased ten-fold, with far stricter orders. Do you think that is fair Cedra?"

"Of course Miss Claudia"

Miss Claudia smiles slightly. My lady steps closer towards, until we are but three steps apart. Her hands are folded behind her back, and posture not rigid but with the elegance of a noble stone statue. Her eyes become lazily trained on mine.

"Cedra, I have a couple of last questions for you before we go live, firstly what is your opinion of the rebels? You can tell me, I promise not to gossip"

I trust my lady wholly so I answer.

"I do believe they were on the wrong tracks, they were a danger to their own friends and family as well as the capitol"

"And the capitol assistants?"

"They were misguided, but all the same were betraying their own people"

She nods, showing nothing. Claudia steps closer.

"My final question, how far would you follow me as my assistant?"

That's not a difficult question. I love my lady. She is my idol.

"I would follow you to the ends of the earth Miss, always ready to carry out your orders"

It takes a second for her to fully take in what I say, but then she nods. A sudden creak of the door alerts the both of us however.

"President Snow, Miss Cedra, five minutes until we are live"

They leave, and Claudia faces me again.

"It seems we must be starting. Come, let's get this over with" she mutters. She brushes down her hair, straightens up and looks to me. Taking the hint, I open to door myself and let her glide through, with myself trailing behind.

The cheers are immense, noise erupting from the brightly coloured wave of capitol citizens below. Claudia waves to them to satisfy their lust for approval. There are cameras either side and to the front of the three people on this balcony. That includes myself, the president and a young man holding the quarter quell box. It takes nearly ten minutes (all of which is filmed) for the roaring to cease. The young man with the box steps up to President Snow, but oddly she shakes her hand and pushes it away. Confused, he steps back and satisfied our president turns to face the cameras again.

"It is that time of year once again Panem when the long awaited hunger games draw close, and this year is particularly special indeed, for it is the quarter. We remember the past quells-for the 25th games the tributes were voted into the games, the 50th games delivered us twice as many tributes and the 75th was the victors quell, a quell upon which disaster fell"

A few murmurs rush through the crowd but unfazed she continues.

"We all know that even citizens of our beloved capitol betrayed their own people. However as my grandfather, the previous president, died too soon after they went unpunished. This brings me to this year's quell. It will not be a random selection from the box. Instead I already have a quell which will be instated, which is this: To remind those in the capitol who work around tributes that they are simply ours to use-they are not to be pitied or admired-those in professions that prepare tributes for the games will be the ones now reaped"

Silence sweep over the nation, but far from here in the district they must be cheering, screaming with joy. Things here take a turn for the worse when the screams of fear begin. I recognise a few of them down in the crowd, stylists and escorts wild eyed and frenzied. President Snow just watches on, emotionless.

"Thank you, that will be all" she finishes with, turning to leave. Instinctively I follow her back to the office. I shut the door behind, but that doesn't block out the screams and shouts. My lady places herself down and the desk, not lifting her head.

"Take note Cedra, the citizens in these professions eligible for this quell will be the following: Escorts, stylists, prep team members, tribute trainers and game-makers"

"Yes miss, I'll inform them of that now" I answer back, but before I leave I decide to give my lady my last opinion of what's happened here.

"And just for the record Miss Claudia, this changes nothing. I'll still follow you. Even until death if need be"

She lifts her head solemnly, like one who has just received the most severe of penalties.

"I know Cedra, I know"

* * *

**And it's back! Sorry for the long break from this,but it's back and ready to go! And it's better than ever (so says my mad friend :p),but I cannot wait to get this going again :)**

**However,there are still 5 tribute spaces open,so feel free to submit a tribute so we can get the official reapings started!**

**Thanks for reading**

**~Blue Eyes~**


	2. Update

I apologise for the long delay, but I thought I would update you all that I am finally done with exams and all other busy stressors in my life, therefore I will begin putting focus back on this story. Not only this, but I will be able to write more stories aside from this as well.

Now I finally have all the tributes, I will begin with the reapings very soon. When the reapings are done I may replace this chapter with them.

Until then, I hope you are as excited as I am for this

Thank you for reading.


	3. She Who Would Be Queen

**My word, it's been so long! Firstly, let me apologise for taking so long, I know everyone worked so hard on their tributes, but after a long period of stress and disconnection from inspiration I'm ready to rejoin the fanfic game! So here is a Christmas present to my readers,I hope you enjoy the return of this fanfic.**

* * *

_'This kingdom, good riddance, t__heir freedom and innocence has brought this whole thing down'_

_~Her Name Is Alice by Shinedown~_

There's only one day left until the reaping. That's one day until the worst trouble starts. The riots ensued only hours after the announcement of the quell. I've had firecrackers launched at the windows, slanderous names desecrating the walls of the mansion, and (disgustingly) buckets of (hopefully) animal blood splattering the door. Cedra since has advised I stay locked in this stupid, boring office. Not like that changes much; outside protesters are endlessly chanting "The Red Queen! The Red Queen!"

Even now in fact. They're so damn loud.

Not loud enough however to drown out the irritating squeak of the office door. I spare a casual glance towards its direction. Slowly, a nervous Cedra pops her head round the side, one hand visible and clasping a folder. She seems to be awaiting approval, like a dog waiting for orders, despite the numerous times I've told her she's allowed any time into my office; she has my respect. Traits like that make her the perfect assistant.

"Get in here Cedra, you don't have to loiter like the rest of them" I call to her. Given a few hesitant seconds she stumbles in, arms still wrapped cautiously around the same folder, her high heels clacking loudly across the polished hardwood floor. It's a sound I can't stand. The stupid 'click' and 'clack', it's like a bloody walking metronome! Once we finish our discussion here I'll order her to buy some new shoes. After all there are at least ten or eleven different shoe outlets across the street, although many might be vacant by the end of the reaping. Cedra stands opposite to the desk where I'm sat; she then curtseys lightly, pushes back a few black strands of hair behind the frames of her glasses then pulls herself straight up, still and ready. Her etiquette has certainly come a long way since she was first hired. However, I can't quite tell whether she's awaiting orders or seeking permission to speak. Her usual nervous expression remains blank for the time being. How enigmatic.

"Well dear, what is it you wanted?" I ask her, keeping up my posh tone. One must keep a respectable aura around their lesser subjects. At the same time I ensure my back is properly straightened. Cedra opens her mouth the speak but ducks as she's interrupted by the flash followed by an explosive roar that flings sharp shards of glass in her (and my) direction. They all lodge themselves in the front of the desk. Cedra slowly gets up and backs away from the desk. She nods at me quickly and pops her head around the door. A maid enters the room quickly with a dustpan and brush. Nervously she dislodges the shards of glass from the desk, refraining from locking her eyes with mine, then bows and hurriedly leaves. Cedra quietly whispers something under her breath and she watches the maid leave.

"What was that dear?" I ask. She turns her head to me.

"Oh, Miss Snow I-"

"Miss Claudia"

"Of course, Miss Claudia, I was just noting how all the servants appear to be acting scared"

"Of course, they fear for themselves, for their friends and relatives, it's the same fear the tributes experience year after year, so now they should begin to understand why those outlying rats are not to be helped"

"Perhaps it's you they're afraid of Miss Claudia" Cedra says quietly, but with a strange confidence. It's unsettling. I look at her with narrowed eyes, but her expression does not falter. The echoes of 'The Red Queen!' continue on outside, drowning out my thoughts, as Cedra's piercing eyes spear through me, causing shivers through my soul.

What soul?

No, I have no soul. Neither did my grandfather. The Snow family survives on cold, bitter, empty veins. I am no Red Queen. I am the White Queen, drenched with the red of her subjects who would not listen.

"Miss Claudia?"

"Cedra, bring me my best designer, I must look presentable for the reapings and I have just the image in mind"

Cedra just nods in understanding, saying nothing but as she leaves I notice a warm smile spread across her mouth. She draws the door closed, but I hear her whisper softly to me alone

"Do not worry, your subjects will soon see you the way I do, _my Queen_"

* * *

**Question time!**

**What did you think of this chapter? it's been so long since I've done this kind of writing so some constructive criticism would be highly appreciated :)**

**Also, from the blog what are your first impressions of the tributes? Who are your favourites so far? I'd love to know :)**

**link to blog: **_it wouldn't post here, so I've put it on my profile page_


	4. Sight For The Sore Eyes

'_What a sight for the sore eyes?_

_It's getting colder in here_

_It's sobering to see them shuffle to the back of the line._

_While they suffer in fear, the mark that was made it so clear'_

_~Sight For The Sore Eyes by Broken Iris~_

**~Cedra POV~**

Up until now I wanted to believe all that was happening was a dream. Some nasty little dream that took away my lady Snow and replaced her with an evil spirit. I'd wake up eventually, go to my lady's office as usual and there she would be, beautiful and smiling as always, asking me softly for today's schedule as she gazes down at her subjects below with utter contentment. She had no dark desires; she was beloved by her capitol, but most of all she was my life.

But now I'm watching as her subjects march in fear to their gathering places. Some with heads held low, others retaining the grace of one from the capitol. Inside they all feel the fear, and many harbour anger towards the lady they once considered their leader. I watch as they all separate, family and friends, by force and by will. My lady has ordered that the capitol be sectioned into twelve to mimic the reapings of the districts. Those eligible are reaped from the section where they reside. It's somewhat of an unfair system, since many of the sections have less or more eligible contestants than others, although by this point I don't think my lady Snow is much interested in fairness or equality. She has even opted out of attending the reapings herself. The original plans that had been mentioned were that she would draw the names for each area. However, after spending much time alone in quiet contemplation, my lady came back to me with two different options. One was to befall the honour of reaping the names to me. Though I wouldn't defy my lady's orders, I was also not quite as keen to become the lightning rod of the hatred she has stirred. The second option was to have members of the districts reap the names.

It was eventually decided that as divine revenge, the mayors of the twelve would reap the names for the twelve divided areas. It's like adding insult to injury if you ask me, but since they will revel more in this I said nothing and began arrangements to bring them in. The only compromise for this option was that I still was to attend each reaping, so that I may report back to my lady with first impressions of the tributes.

Outside a little girl starts screaming. I'm too high up to hear, but the girl's expression is clear as she is forcefully torn from the arms of her mother, whose makeup has become so worn by tears that her face is just a blur of colour. To think, this is how the districts must react in the same situation. I shake my head and step back from the window, and with a quick click of my red heels I turn around head back for the ground floor. I can complain and ponder all I want, but right now I can't change what has been done.

* * *

**Area 1**

**~Mayor Luxure Penfold~**

I thought the luxury of district one was the pinnacle of human desire, but standing here now, outside the capitol building of Panem's President Snow has overwhelmed by previous impressions. Being the mayor, my mansion was of course the most glorious of them all, but compared to this it feels like a shack. I would say I'm jealous, which I kind of am, but it's an honour enough being called here as a part of what is the most fabulous quarter quell I'll ever live to see. For once, I am standing with the height of Panem's socialites (or standing above them). It's a dear shame the president could not attend the event herself, as I was told by her assistant, but I shall still value this opportunity.

Before I get a chance to speak, the president's assistant stands up and gracefully walks to the microphone, tapping it lightly and announcing softly

"Welcome my friends to the 100th games, may I introduce your guest escort for today; district one's mayor Luxure Penfold"

She nods at me and goes back to her chair. The people below follow her with cold, accusing eyes. It's a little unnerving but I straighten up and take the microphone for myself.

"Let me just say that it is indeed an honour to be called up here, let us begin these reapings, with ladies first"

There are many, many names in the bowl; I choose a slip from the middle. Turning to the microphone I read out

"Althea Julius"

"I volunteer as tribute" a confident voice announces from somewhere near the middle of the crowd. The voice doesn't catch me off guard, since I'm used to volunteers back in my home district, but the notion of a capitolite volunteering does strike me as odd.

A tall woman with luxuriously purple hair strides to the stage. She stands next to me, a warm smile on her face. I recognise her instantaneously.

"Ah, if it isn't my district's favourite escort, Rachelle Adamaris!"

"The one and only" she states.

"So why did you volunteer my dear?"

She sighs depressingly but not convincingly.

"Oh, what do I have to live for, might as well be me instead of one these wonderful people"

One lady, who I assume is Althea, looks enamoured by her words. I just nod and go along with it.

"How selfless of you my dear, let's move on to the men now"

I quickly capture a slip from the top of the bowl and read it out.

"Kazuo Helbig"

The reaction isn't as graceful as Rachelle. A man with striking green hair lets out a cry, shoving his way to those viewing at the back. I can't see very well, but he seems to grab a couple of young boys, screaming and crying something out to them until a peacekeeper eventually intervenes, dragging him up onto the stage. Once next to me he quietens down and regains his composure slightly, all but the shocked expression on his face. He says nothing. I feel uncomfortable. We don't normally have tributes who act like this back home So I decide to wrap things up quickly

"And there we have our tributes, Rachelle Adamaris and Kazuo Helbig, happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favour"

I've always wanted to say that on stage.

* * *

**Area 2**

**~Mayor Iron Edge~**

So, yeah this is an honour and all, but it's taking too frickin' long to start! Apparently we're not allowed to start until the president's frickin' assistant is here. If the president really thinks that greatly of her assistant they why doesn't she turn up on time for important bloody things!

Damn I could be doing better things with my time right now, like finding the capitol's best restaurants, or hitting the weights back home. It's too quiet as well. In district two the tributes are always too excited and don't shut up till someone shuts them up. Here everyone is just looking at their feet. How dull. Even my feet are starting to hurt. Stupid bloody boots. I've had about enough so I sit down on the marble stage.

After another few minutes of sheer boredom a limo pulls up beside the stage. Sharply I jump to my feet and brush down my clothes. The chauffeur opens the door for a young lady with short lilac hair and matching eyes. She thanks the chauffeur and quickly skips up to the stage. Once up, she stands beside me, her eyes looking straight through mine.

"I apologise for the lateness"

"Bout bloody time"

"I shall begin the reaping right now"

"Yeah, wait wha-"

"Welcome my friends of the capitol to the 100th games, I would like to introduce your guest escort for today, district 2's mayor Iron Edge"

So I don't even get to introduce it. I don't even get a bloody applause. Whatever, let's just get this over with.

"Alright, alright, guess its ladies first then"

I roughly pull out the first slip I grab from the bowl.

"Our female tribute is Jess-"

"I volunteer"

Just like back home. A cute blonde haired girl hurriedly rushes up to the stage, excitement plastered on her face.

"Well, what's your name?"

"My name is Destiny Garrison" She says with a smile. It really is like back home. Her eagerness and looks remind me of a typical district two career. It's comforting.

"Alrighty then, why'd you volunteer just now young lady?

"You'll find out soon" She giggles

"Alrighty then, now for the male tribute"

I do the same as before and roughly pull out a slip, spilling a few in the process.

"And our male tribute is Balthazar Rennon"

No one volunteers this time. People disperse around a man with long blonde hair like Destiny. He shakes his head and slowly walks up to the stage, holding his head low. He seems sullen but accepting. When he stands up beside me I make the final announcement.

"And there's the tributes: Destiny Garrison and Balthazar Rennon! Happy hunger games, odds in your favour and all that"

Balthazar reaches out to shakes Destiny's hand, and I notice his little finger is missing on his left hand.

Weird.

* * *

**Area 3**

**~Mayoress Cabella Rays~**

This is quite strange indeed. Now I realise why so many of our district's victors prefer to spend their time here. I haven't been taken too far into the capitol's centre, but all around me I'm dazzled by lights and technological wonders beyond my imagination. As a child I dreamed of one day visiting the capitol to see the wonders. As a teenager I dreamed of working in the capitol, seeing my inventions at work in place where they could be afforded their use. Yes, my inventions may have had usefulness in the districts too, but if I made it to the capitol I thought perhaps I'd be able to distribute them out to the districts. Who knew I'd ever make it here though. After I rose to the position of Mayoress I forgot about that dream and focused more on my people. In all respect I should be feeling contempt towards these people, but deep down I find that I can't.

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, snapping me awake from my daydream. The president's assistant draws round from behind me.

"I believe it is time to begin" she says.

"O-of course, I shall-"

"I'll begin the introduction"

"Oh, all right then"

She takes the microphone.

"Welcome my capitol friends to the 100th hunger games, your guest escort is district three's Mayoress Cabella Rays"

There is no applause as she announces my name. I clear my throat.

"Ladies first"

I take my time choosing a name, gracing the glass sides of the bowl until I pick out a slip. I clear my throat again.

"Raine Davenport"

Nothing happens for about half a minute. Eventually a few people move out the way, and two people walk together to the stage. It's not difficult to determine which one is the actual tribute as one girl is shaking desperately. She looks so beautiful and so young. I've seen many a tribute like her be taken from under my wing. The other girl simply seems to be helping her walk up, whispering soothing things as she does so. It takes some time but eventually she makes it to the stage. I reach out a hand to help her up, which she hesitates at first, but then takes. The other girl lets go and nods, mouthing 'it will be okay' before being escorted back to the crowd. I give her a comforting rub on the back before returning to the microphone.

"And now for the gentlemen"

I'm shaking a little this time, knocking a few slips of paper out as I choose one.

"Osiris Kray" I say quietly.

Almost immediately a man begins walking to the stage. He says nothing, shows nothing, staying calm yet his blue eyes seem rather alert. From his weathered face I would gather that he is rather old, but his large, muscular body is intimidating, especially when stood next to me. He neither looks at me nor Raine. Instead his gaze seems situated on something in the horizon. I look away from him and wrap up the ceremony.

"Well, here are your tributes, Raine Davenport and Osiris Kray, may the odds-"

I find myself unable to finish. I see the scared face of Raine and the solemn face of Osiris and it's just too much.

* * *

**Area 4**

**~Mayoress Aqua Beachley~**

Seems I lucked out today. The reaping stage for area four was decided to be on a platform floating in a large lake. I'm surrounded by beautifully blue water. Deep, dark and mysterious, flecked with light that makes it shimmer like crystals. It's unspoilt and clean. If I were alone I'd love to take a swim in these waters, loosen up some stress in my muscles, and wash away the nasty thoughts in my head. Now why can't those capitol people down there see the beauty of it?

They all look so stressed. Maybe they all need a good swim too, although that many people in such a beautiful lake would only taint it. Rain perhaps. Yes, a rainstorm would be wonderful to wash away all this negativity. Oh if only I had the power to make such events happen. I can only bet our dear president, with all the power she has, could make such a thing. Well, probably not but its fun to dream.

"Welcome my friends of the capitol, it is time to begin the 100th games, with our guest escort district four's mayoress Aqua Beachley"

Seems I was out of my head for longer than I thought. The president's assistant gestures me to the microphone, which I sheepishly take.

"Haha, sorry I was a little of it there, shall we start with the ladies then?"

I fumble around in the bowl until I pick out a slip that feels right. I go read the name…but it throws me off.

"Sha-Sharis? Karis? Chairis?"

Someone whispers in my ear.

"Oooooh Charis! Charis Hampton"

Some people disperse around a woman, who reluctantly walks up. I am awestruck by her hair, which is green with highlights of blue. It reminds me of the beautiful sea. I find myself staring intensely as she walks up beside me, but when I get a close look of her face I stop. Her facial expression is obviously strained, and her body stands still and tense. Nervous perhaps? How boring, my district's tribute aren't normally like that. They're full of the intensity of crashing waves. I move away from her and dive into the men's bowl, pulling out a slip that feels important.

"Winnegan Durai!"

Something erupts in the crowd. I see a few people get shoved to the floor by a flamboyant but gorgeously muscled man, who looks around in a panicked state. Now this is entertaining!

A couple of the peacekeepers march in to settle the situation but the muscled man launches at them, knocking the first one down with ease. He tears through the crowd and tries to make a break to the shore, but unfortunately for him the second peacekeeper grabs the scruff of his shirt. Another joins him, and they both drag the man to the stage. I pass him a wink as he stands next to me, but he looks away. Ah well.

"Well well, that was certainly exciting, our tributes for area four, Charis Hampton and Winnegan Durai!" I announce with in my melodramatic voice. It doesn't seem to bode well with the audience. Ah well, I'll just have fun by myself them.

* * *

**Area 5**

**~Mayoress Luna Haze~**

As someone from an outlier district with next to no living victors, I shouldn't in theory feel any sympathy for the people that have caused so many needless deaths. Perhaps it's the way I was raised, or the many years in my old life that I've seen the scared faces of so many children, but I look here now at the people before me. There aren't many of them, and their all so young. I'd say the oldest is at the most thirty years old. So much potential ahead of them. A see a couple of young men and women out there who remind me of my own children and grandchildren. No, I can't be mad. In an alternate world I wouldn't be having to send two of these young people off to the death. I don't know how the escorts of the capitol can do it year after year.

The president's assistant reaches out a hand for me "shall I help you to the microphone ma'am?" she offers. Such a charming girl.

"Thank you very much dear"

She carefully helps me out my seat, escorting me to the front of the stage. She takes the microphone to make an announcement first.

"Welcome to the 100th games my friends of the capitol, today the reaping will be led your guest escort, district five's mayoress Luna Haze"

She passes over the microphone.

"I am graced to be here, may the odds be in your favour, now let us begin with the ladies"

The lovely assistant passes me the girl's bowl. I carefully take out a slip sticking out of the top, the slowly read out the name.

"Alara Florent"

I scan the crowd with my tired eyes but am unable to find the tribute. It is not until she has nearly reached the stage that I see her. She's such a pretty young girl; it's quite a shame to see her up here. I encourage over to me. When she gets closer I can see the wet stains from tears I'm sure she tried to hide. She gently wipes away another and tries to keep calm.

"There there dear, it'll be alright" I whisper to her, then turn to the crowd "and now for the boys"

The assistant brings me to other bowl. Again, I pick out one that is lying near the top of the bowl.

"Darius Hampshire"

Yet another young one. A skinny looking boy shakily begins making his way up. Suddenly though he snuck up on and roughly pushed to the side by a strong looking man. The look on his face screams determination.

"I volunteer" he announces in a deep voice, striding onto the stage with confidence. At first I don't know how to react since we don't normally get volunteers back home, but the assistant gestures me to the mic, then to him and I get it

"Well, how interesting, what is your name my dear?"

"Slate Shield" he states bluntly. He seems to have nothing else to say so I assume this is a good point to finish, before I feel more guilty looking at them.

"And there we have our tributes, Alara Florent and Slate Shield"

I don't bother saying 'happy hunger games'. I don't see the point.

* * *

**Area 6**

**~Mayor Racer Roades~**

When I was called in to be the escort for a reaping in the capitol, I had two initial reactions. First, I was disgusted at the idea of the capitol actually asking me for favour. What the hell have they done for me? The district is worn down and crime ridden, yet they refuse to do anything about it. However, I eventually realised through their tone of voice and the implications of their words that my attendance at the reaping was not all that voluntary. My second reaction was then as follows. 'Well, if I'm going to be called in to a favour for the people that horribly control the lives of my district, then at least I'll get some sort of special treatment'.

Yeah, some notion that turned out to be. The second I got off the train I was told the reaping was happening right then and there. Apparently they wanted area six to be in the train station because it'd emulate district six. What kind of stupid idea is that? We're more than just train drivers in district six. My son and daughter are accomplished mechanics thank you very much.

I turn to the president's assistant who is standing beside me.

"Are we starting yet?"

"Yes, we will start now" she says, tapping on the microphone in front of her

"Hello, welcome to the 100th games my friends, let me introduce you to your guest escort for today, district six's mayor Racer Roades"

I huff and snatch the mic off her.

"Alright, let's get this over with, ladies first I guess" I grumble, reaching out and snatching a slip of paper from the bowl.

"Ellie Chandler"

I glance around impatiently, tapping my foot.

"Well?"

People start looking around the aforementioned girl. For a while no one moves or says anything. I feel a vein about to pop in my forehead. Finally, some people move and create an empty space around a fiery haired young woman. She still doesn't move though. If I had to guess I'd say she was in a state of shock. Tired of waiting as well, a peacekeeper grabs her by the arm and drags her to the stage. He lets go and she stumbles slightly, looking up at me, still in shock. I feel a little sorry for her , but wave it off to get on with the next tribute.

"Well, now for guys then I guess"

I pull out the first slip I see from the men's bowl and read it out.

"Klyn Maddox"

Immediately I hear a choked sob. It's so loud it echoes across the silent station. The sob turns into sobs, and then a full blown breakdown of tears and crying that seem to be coming from somewhere near the back. I can see very well from here who it is too. Some feminine looking young man with pink hair is bawling on the floor, another young man trying to comfort him to no avail. Like with Ellie the peacekeepers again get impatient, forcefully grabbing the man by the arm and literally dragging him to the stage. He cries and screams the whole way. One peacekeeper stands beside him to ensure he stays there. I take a step away.

"Well, there you go, your tribute Ellie Chandler and Klyn Maddox"

If this was a reaping back home I'd normally feel sympathy from their pain. But I don't. These people won't help mine, so I won't help them.

* * *

**Area 7**

**~Mayoress Blossom Appletree~**

The capitol is more intimidating than I expected. All my life I've only ever known the tranquillity of open nature and the freedom of childhood. It's only been a few months since I took over as mayor from my loving father, who unfortunately died due to illness. He used to tell me stories of the capitol, that is was a bright fantastic place with the most beautiful clothes, impressive buildings and food like you've never tasted. It was difficult to believe him when the games showed the brutality they were capable of, but for his sake I would try and believe him. When I was called to do this reaping, I was hoping maybe he was telling the truth.

I'm sorry daddy, but it isn't all true. Yes, the outfits are beautiful and the buildings are impressive, but there is something wrong with the people; the atmosphere doesn't have the same freedom and innocence like back home. It almost makes me grateful of where I grew up. I turn to see the president's assistant walking up to stage.

"I apologize for my lateness, and I also apologize for your late father, I'm sure it must have been terrible"

Her words seem genuine, so I nod.

"Thank you, I appreciate it"

"I shall start now then" she taps the microphone "welcome my capitol friends to the 100th hunger games, we have a guest escort for you today, the new district seven mayoress Blossom Appletree"

I curtsey at the crowd.

"Hello, I would like to thank you for the honour of being here, I shall now choose the name of the first tribute, ladies first"

I take my time choosing a name, letting my fingers glide along the slips until I catch one between my fingers.

"Belle Windchime"

Such a beautiful name, though my thoughts are distracted by the utterance of a swear word. Personally I despise swearing in any circumstance. A very pretty girl begins walking to the stage, though it's a shame her face is so unhappy. She looks utterly unimpressed with her situation. When she stands beside me she says nothing, and when I try to smile at her she attempts to hide her face behind her hair. Perhaps she's shy.

"And now for the gentlemen"

Like with Belle I take some time choosing a name, however this time one slip gives me a paper cut. I decide to choose that one, reading it my blood drips on it.

"Otho Plautinus"

I try not to laugh when I see the man that matches the name. I knew capitol people dressed eccentrically, but this man's outfit is something else, especially with that top hat. Not only that, but I can't help noticing he's…rather overweight; to the point where he's waddling on stage. An overweight duck comes to mind when I see him. He looks a little too happy to be on stage as well which is unnerving. I just smile nervously and make the final announcement.

"Let us salute our brave tributes, Belle Windchime and Otho Plautinus, happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favour"

I say that with confidence, but deep in my soul I can't help but feel I've sent them to their deaths.

* * *

**Area 8**

**~Mayor Plaid Casey~**

I don't really want to be here. The only reason I accepted willingly was so I could get a better experience of capitol fashion. Back home one of the reasons I was voted mayor was due to the popularity of the clothes I tailored. Many said if lived in the capitol I would be beloved. Although I adore the thought of widespread admiration, I prefer the humble adoring public of my home district. At least I can trust their opinions, unlike these shallow bastards.

But that doesn't mean I can't take in the full fashion experience in the time that I have now. For example, one man near to the front if wearing a lime green suit, ruffled with feathers and matching top hat. It's ugly but strangely becoming on him. One old lady is having to stand near the back since her sparkling pink dress is so puffy that no-one can stand within half a metre of her. I snap out of my distractions as the president's assistant goes to begin the ceremony. She's wearing a slim, silver dress and matching high heel.

"Welcome capitol, my friends, to the 100th games, may I introduce to your guest escort, district eight's mayor Plaid Casey"

I stand up from my seat and give a small wave, which no one responds to. I slowly retract my hand.

"Well then, ladies first"

I tiredly stick my hand in the bowl and choose a slip of paper, reading out unenthusiastically.

"Lilaia Thomalon"

From the front a confident looking blonde woman in a gorgeous blue dress strides on to the stage. She smiles, but I suspect it's fake. It's like the smile of a fashion model trying to impress the audience. Her smile grows more genuine though when she stands above the others. I try to ignore it and continue.

"Now for the men"

I choose a slightly ripped slip of paper from the bowl and read it out.

"Myth Carter"

Now there's a familiar name. The escort for our district for the past few years. I don't actually mind this man. Mature, serious, and that purple hair is striking. Seems this hasn't been all bad, although he does seem reluctant to come up to the stage. In the end someone shouts 'I Volunteer' and, after hugging him, hurriedly makes his way to the stage.

"So, um, what is your name?"

"Leonardo Carter" he replies

"Same surname, can I assume you're related?"

"Yes, yes, that is my fiancé" he replies sadly. I bite my lip and turn away awkwardly.

"Um, well then, your tributes, Lilaia Thomalon and Myth-I mean Leonardo Carter, happy hunger games" I say the last part sarcastically. I'm just glad that's over.

* * *

**Area 9**

**~Mayor Garain Fells~**

I'm beginning to feel very uncomfortable here. I was assuming area nine would be sectioned in a park or something with some greenery, to match the district and all that. Those were just hopeful assumptions though. Instead it seems area nine is quite close to the capitol centre, so instead of endless fields of gold I'm surrounded by masses of tall buildings and weird shops and services I've never seen before, all amounting to a big old case of claustrophobia. I mean come on, a whole shop dedicated to nails? And three of them on the same block?

Oh it's all so confusing and scary and intimidating and I don't want to be here. Why did I say I would do this? I'm gonna pass out before the reaping even begins at this rate.

I yelp when a hand touches my arm, but I calm down when I see the gentle face of the president's assistant.

"Do you mind if we start now?"

"Y-yeah s-s-s-sure" I stutter. She nods and turns to the audience.

"Welcome, welcome friends of the capitol to the 100th games, may I introduce your guest escort district nine's mayor Garain Fells"

She gestures at me, and hesitantly I take the mic, which my stupid shaky hands drop. I quickly recover it.

"W-well th-then,th-thank y-y-you,l-l-ladies f-f-f-first" I stutter embarrassingly. As I pick out a name from the bowl my shaky hands knock many others out of it.

"E-Emma M-Maroon"

"I volunteer!"

I jump since the sudden exclamation takes me off guard. I'm not used to seeing volunteers back home. I look in anticipation for the volunteer, although I'm confused when I see her walk up. Her face looks uncertain of her decision. Nonetheless she still comes up to the stage and stands strong.

"S-so,what's y-your n-n-name then d-d-dear?" I manage to ask.

"My name is Delilah Lèpou" she replies.

"A-and w-why did you v-v-volunteer?"

"Well, I think I have a decent shot at this, so why not?" she giggles, smiling at me. I manage to smile back before moving on.

"N-now the b-b-boys"

I try to be gentler in picking a name this time, but before I can I'm interrupted.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

I'm so startled that the bowl is knocked over and smashes on the ground. I sheepishly step away from it and look for the man that volunteered. He's quite a strange looking man, but somehow he doesn't intimidate me. When he reaches the stage I ask his name.

"It's Adrian Maverick" he replies in a gentle voice. It's not befitting of a volunteer, which makes me wonder about his intentions, so I ask him too why he volunteered, but his reply is just a tap on the nose and a mysterious smile. I don't whether to be intrigued or disturbed by that.

"W-well then, y-your t-tr-tributes, D-Delilah Lèp-p-pou and Adrian M-M-Maverick"

Two volunteers though; is this what it's always like in the career districts? If so then I'll keep my quiet open grain fields.

* * *

**Area 10**

**~Mayoress Juniper Pallory~**

I feel ready to murder every single individual present. I never said I wanted to do this. When they contacted me I firmly said no. Perhaps I should have expected them to use force. It was only a day after I denied their request I was taken by gunpoint from my family table to come here to the capitol, just to read out a few stupid names and go home again. I don't want to be associated with the same stupid event that these people set up in the first place. One of the only things that' s keeping me from assaulting anyone right now is the reminder that out of the two people I reap today at least one of them is bound to die. I guess it's a satisfactory form of revenge. I shift in my seat out of impatience. That and two peacekeepers are standing either side of me to ensure I don't do anything rebellious, and I'm not allowed to move until the president's assistant makes the introduction. I hate that bitch most of all for condoning all this, to her own people now less. How despicable.

"Welcome my friends in the capitol, to the 100th hunger games; I'd like to introduce to you your guest escort, district ten's mayoress Juniper Pallory"

I'm finally allowed to stand. As I move to the mic she passes by me and whispers "I'm sorry for forcing you away from your family to be here"

Whatever. I grab the mic forcefully.

"Alright first tribute, ladies first" I grumble. I grab a slip from the bowl forcefully, ripping it slightly.

"Nerice Arcand"

A few moments of silence pass. A few people move aside for someone, but she doesn't move yet. After a minute or so, an older woman slowly and calmly walks up to the stage. Her head is tilted down slightly, but even so I can see the smirk on her face. I'm actually a little intrigued by her. When she stands beside me I smirk back at her, which she positively responds to.

"Right, now the men"

Like before I forcefully grab a slip from the bowl. I try and sound a little enthused this time when I read it.

"Fang Quirentis"

Hah, what a cool name. I look around somewhat eagerly for this tribute, and I'm impressed with what I see. His hair is black and ruffled, appearing like feathers. Birds were always my favourite animal in my district. Cool name, cool hair. Yet, his composure seems to contradict his appearance. With someone that cool you'd thought they'd act cool. But no this man is shaking with nerves, fear evident in his eyes and he graces the stage. I guess compared to some tributes though this could be considered calm. Before I make the final announcement I lean over to him and whisper 'nice hair', to which he cheers up a little bit.

"Well then, your tributes are Nerice Arcand and Fang Quirentis, may the odds be in your favour" I say, my voice dripping with obvious sarcasm. Who knows whether they have the odds to win? I just care if one of them dies.

* * *

**Area 11**

**~Mayor Bud Saffron~**

I'm tired of fighting it. When I told my wife about what the capitol had asked me to do, she told me I should say no. She told me to stand up for myself; that I don't need to get involved with the capitol when it's not necessary. If you had told me that many years ago in my rebellious youth I might have agreed. In my old age however I have grown weary. I've seen destruction and war. I mean, hell I lived through the rebellion twenty five years ago. I remember the year prior when the little girl from our district died in the arms of the rebel. I remember a year later when I witnessed her family gunned down before my eyes. That's when I felt it was time to stop fighting them. I'd just gotten married and I didn't want my family to go the same way. So that's where I am now, standing at attention, waiting for the president's assistant to begin already.

"Welcome my friends of the capitol to the 100th games; your guest escort for today is district eleven's mayor Bud Saffron"

She nods to me, to which I sigh and make my way over. I try the force a smile as I speak.

"Hello, it is an honour to be invited here today, we shall begin with ladies first" I say like the escorts who repeat the same line year after year. I tiredly put my hand in the bowl, sparing no time in choosing a name. I read out the name in the same rehearsed tone as before.

"Danté Ligna"

The tribute becomes apparent to me the moment her name is called. I can see her close to the front of the crowd, her eyes furrowing, confusion and fear sweeping her face. Her eyes keep flickering to what I assume is her friend. The most curious thing about her reaction is that till now her face has been very blank. I hardly think I noticed her before. A peacekeeper nudges at her, but she walks up to the stage without being escorted. Her face retains confliction even when on stage. When I get a closer look she stands out even more, with her bright colourful hair reminding of the beautiful flowers in my wife's garden. I smile a little.

"And now for the men" I announce. I choose a name towards the top of the bowl and read it out with a tad more emotion than before.

"Fabianyz Brunini"

It takes me longer to point out this tribute but soon I pick out a face with a shocked expression. It is most likely him. I suspect him to be like the girl, but as quickly as I see his shocked face it disappears again, changing instead to bravery. I admire it, but I can only hope that he has something to base that bravery on. He makes his way through the crowd and up onto the stage, standing tall and strong above the others. I look at them both, and unwilling to continue this further so again I repeat the same words of the escorts like they want to hear

"There are your tributes, Danté Ligna and Fabianyz Brunini, happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your ever"

Sigh, I wonder if they find those words as unbelievable as I do.

* * *

**Area 12**

**~Mayoress Jen Jade~**

It's like I never left home. I'm somewhat surprised they're letting me see this part of the capitol. I never even imagined that the capitol had poor areas like this. When I was driven through here to see the stage I caught a few glimpses of life in this section of the capitol, and what are saw were the faces of my people back home. Though not necessarily living in shacks, the buildings and houses here look decrepit and the people look broken. Well, some do. I've seen a few that have same glimmer of hope that I've seen in some many back home. When we arrived at the stage I got a better look at these people. Their looks aren't quite as flashy as many of the capitol people I've seen. Though still quite fashionable their style here seems more humbled, as do their personalities. I almost feel sorry for them

Somehow I can also say the same for the president's assistant. She's less pompous and overdressed than I imagined. If anything I see a little sadness in her eyes. She catches me looking at her and moves away to begin the introductions.

"Welcome my friends to the 100th games, please welcome your guest escort, district twelves Mayoress Jen Jade"

I bow, giving a warm smile to the crowd, but I can't find the words I want to say to these people so I just go with "ladies first"

I gently choose a name from the bowl.

"Eponine Delacour"

A young woman with many beautiful roses in her hair moves calmly from the crowd. She moves to the back where the families stand, kneeling down by one young girl, squeezing her hand and saying something I can't hear. She stands and begins calmly walking to the stage, glancing to the side at some boy in the crowd. I follow her with my eyes as she walks up, then snap away to choose the next name.

"Now for the boys"

After some time I finally choose a name.

"Antonius Forscue"

"No" someone in the crowd says defiantly. I blink in surprise, but deep down it feels good to hear someone say it. I try to figure out who it is and seem a rough looking man with anger in his face but sadness in his eyes. He shakes his head but makes his way up anyway, muttering to himself as he does. I happen to catch a couple of words that sounded like 'dream job', which feel like a knife in the gut. I look from Eponine to Antonius and strangely a feel a pang of sympathy. I shake my head.

"Your tributes, Eponine Delacour and Antonius Forscue"

I want to say so much more to them, but I fear I'll never find the right words.

"May the odds be ever in your favour"

* * *

**My word that was a long chapter! I was considering splitting this in two but I really wanted all the reapings in one chapter**

**So,I hope you liked that,and here's a few questions**

**1)What do you think of the writing style?**

**2)Was it too long? just long enough?**

**3)Based on these reapings and the blog (link on my profile) who are your favourite tributes? who are you looking forward to?**

**4)Which mayors/mayoress's did you enjoy reading in this chapter?**

**5)What are you impressions of Cedra?**

**Okay enough questions,thanks for reading :)**

**Oh I'd also like to give a shout out to two of my friends who have syots of their own,but still need more tributes,if you're interested then have a look for JabberJay Ink and ILikeToThinkI'mC****ool **


	5. Author's Note UPDATE

**So, after feeling inspired and happy with this fanfic with some kind encouragement from a couple of reviewers and others, I've decided to continue with this project on the side of my other projects. This means that updates won't necessarily be consistent, especially with my new SYOT and two other multi-chapter stories, but I'll try to update as often as I can.**

**Thank you all for the support and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story :)**

**Oh, if you have a little time though, perhaps you could check out my new syot Rust and Stardust :)**

**Anyway thanks again.**


	6. Masquerade

'_We've got the fire, who's got the matches _

_Take a look around at the sea of masks _

_and come one come all, welcome to the grand ball _

_Where the strong run for cover and the weak stand tall'_

_~Welcome to the Masquerade by Thousand Foot Krutch~_

* * *

_Raine Davenport, 21, Area 3, Stylist_

It's a little strange being on the other side of the make-up brush. Actually, it's more than strange; it's also tedious. It seemed pretty simple before, sifting tribute to tribute through the prep phase, hosing them down, plucking out unsightly hairs and so on so forth before they were taken to me so I can work my stylistic magic. It's always liked my job, since it allows me to have some sort of personal expression that I don't have on a normal day to day basis. It's one of the few times I can get closer to people as well. I know I'm not supposed to become attached to tributes, but to me their existence becomes something of an artistic muse that I cannot help but adore. They've all come from different districts, ranging from the richest to the poorest so each year becomes a new challenge. Time and time again though they continued to make my work shine. I remember especially, two years ago I was the stylist for the victor, a charming young man from district three. He came to me as not exactly the most handsome tribute of the lot. He had awkward teeth, dull hair but what stood out most to me was his personality, or rather lack of it. He was shy and troubled with social situations. From what I was able to pry from him he was terrified of dying because he couldn't make alliances. The way he distanced himself from the other tributes seemed…reminiscent of myself. I saw a little bit of myself in this district three boy, so I didn't want to see him die. I rather empathised with him really. I'd say that was what inspired the greatest achievement of my career. I designed outfits most suited to highlight his strengths. I used the extent of my skills to erase his blemishes, to highlight the more unusual features of his face in a way that didn't make them seem ugly, but oddly desirable. When he lit up for the first time on the chariots the beam struck everyone. He was an instant hit. The newfound popularity helped boost his confidence, and from there I continued to put my full efforts into helping his cause, all the way until his final kill. The whole time I found myself strangely connected to him. Every second of the games I was counting until the moment I could see him alive in the flesh once again. I never quite got what I wanted. Though he did mention me in his victor's speech so I heard, suddenly he was torn from me. Any time we wanted to meet there was always something else he had to go to, or someone else he had to see. After some time the distance grew further, until it seemed so far gone that connection we once had may as well not have existed.

Now that I think over, lying here bare as the people I once considered my lesser hose me down, it's things like this that are the reason I'm here now. President Snow seemed quite outraged at the capitol people for becoming too close to the tributes, and it's quite possible she's the reason I never saw my victor boy again. If I weren't lying here now I'd find him and tell him that.

I yelp as I'm doused with another wave of cold water. My distant thoughts are washed away, my brain more awake and aware of its surroundings now. The mumble to one another, exchanging surly glances between me and each other. Have they lost all respect? Do they even know who I am?

One of them signals me to sit up. When I do the other chucks a towel at my knees. I quickly wrap it around my body, the gently stand up. My knees feel weak and I nearly fall over but I'm able to keep myself standing.

"We're going to take you to Freisha now" the first assistant states half-heartedly. As we start walking a peacekeeper follows closely behind us. The thudding of his boots is unsettling. On our way we pass Osiris in the hallway. Foolishly I expect something comforting from him but he just nods and continues on his way. I suppose he has his own issues to deal with right now. Eventually we reach what I assume is this Freisha's room. When we enter I'm a little surprised at what I see. At the desk in the middle of the room all I see is a skinny woman with frizzy ginger. The assistant quickly pushes me into the room and leaves. The skinny woman's ears seem to prick up upon my presence and she quickly jumps up from her seat to look at me. At once I don't recognise her. Orange frizzy hair, bright green eyes and two stars tattooed on either cheek. It twigs to me immediately; she must be new here. That's not the only realisation that came to mind. If she was accepted into the role of stylist before the announcement of the quarter quell, we could easily be in each other's shoes right now. To think she could have been thrown in here, with no chance to express herself. It makes me a little less regretful to be here.

* * *

_Winnegan 'Winn' Durai, 21, Area 4, Escort_

My nerves are almost going through the roof here. Well, in a manner of speaking. You know, one might assume I'm freaking out over being reaped, especially after my display at the reapings yesterday. Yes, indeed I'm still not sleeping well over the idea, but my concerns as of right now relate to something else. As my friends will know I love a good chat with the people around me. However, big social gatherings and parties have never really been my thing, yet now I'm at quite possibly the largest 'party' the capitol throws. Just like with the many tributes that have stood in my place before me, I stand in waiting to be thrust into the capitol's centre of attention. Either side of my body two of the lucky assistants that didn't get reaped are readying the final touch-ups of my outfit. Every time I try to make conversation they lower their heads further, eyes concentrated solely on their stitching. I guess it's unsurprising; they probably don't want to get involved out of fear. There's not much can do to lift their spirits I suppose, but still it'd be nice to be able to have a conversation right now so I can take my mind of this outfit. It seems the president (I assume) wanted match the district themes with the areas, since they've put me in some sort of tacky half toga that only covers my private area. I feel somewhat ashamed to wear this. One of my beloved boys from district four would pull this off perfectly, exposing their perfectly gleaming tanned muscles. I'm undeserving of such an outfit!

I glace to the side to keep from looking at my barely covered legs, noticing Charis doesn't seem entirely happy with her outfit either. She picks anxiously at the strap of her shell bikini, her other hand roaming randomly around her body, covering what neatly waxed skin she can. Her eyes are staring somewhere off in the distance. However, they suddenly snap at me when she catches me staring.

"Please don't stare" she asks politely.

"Oh, sorry! I was just glancing" I respond quickly, but with a comforting smile. Finally, someone I can talk to. Charis sighs and smiles back.

"It's alright I suppose, seeing as the whole world is about to stare at my half-naked body anyway"

The words 'half-naked' cause my cheeks to heat up. Woah boy, you just met this woman. So what if she's scantily clad? Be a friend first, not a flirt.

"I think you look just beautiful in that outfit" I blurt out without thinking. Well, I suppose I WAS thinking it, but it was just a thought!

Charis blushes a little.

"I-I mean they'll think you're beautiful. It could get you a lot of sponsors, trust me I've been through this countless times before, I always tell my precious tributes they gotta look their absolute best, let their inner beauty shine" I shout, thrusting my arms into the air with expression, though I knock over one the assistants with my little tug. Whoops.

Her face blanks a little, like the thought is processing in her head but her face then relaxes.

"I suppose you're right, wonder if it'll be the same case with your loincloth" she laughs.

I subconsciously move a hand to cover it, but then I join her, laughing heartily. When Charis finally calms down the smile fades from her face and instantaneously she goes back to staring at some far-away place, like our conversation never even occurred. I consider saying something again but I can only guess she won't answer, and I don't want to push her.

So I go back to failing to ignore my uncomfortable half-nakedness, whilst trying to do the same with Charis. In the time we wait two other tributes pass by us; the two from three I gather. The young violet haired lady stops abruptly, her eyes staring intently up and down my body. She giggles like a schoolgirl. Beside her the older man looks less than impressed and about as impressed as I am with his outfit. The both of them are sporting what appear to be navy blue boiler suits wrapped in several obnoxiously blinking lights. Only difference between them is the girl's outfit is slimming and complimentary of her appearance, whereas the man looks more like a dressed up death row criminal.

"Ah cheer up old man, it could be worse" I say comfortingly, gesturing to my lack of clothes. He flashes me a dark look. My smile begins twitching.

"So, um, who are you guys?" I ask nervously "I'm Winnegan, that over there is Charis" I say, pointing at her. She doesn't look our way.

"I'm Raine" the girl answers quietly, fiddling with her violet hair. The man takes some time to answer but eventually states "Osiris" before dutifully trudging back to his chariot as an announcement calls out for the tributes to start boarding. The girl quickly follows behind, but not before takin one last sneaky glance.

"Mr Durai, it's time to get in the chariot" one of the assistants notifies me. I sigh and take my place, waiting for Charis, hoping she won't take long. It's not easy keeping up a smile on a day like this, but I'll try.

* * *

_Rachelle Adamaris, 31, Area 1, Escort (District 1)_

I wonder in the odd seconds of peace I get whether it was worth volunteering to be here; whether it was worth escaping from it all.

But then I look at this beautiful dress, and I forget about it. Using the polished metal of the chariots as a mirror I admire myself, dressed up in the most elegant black ball gown and high heels. All I need is a tiara and I'd look like a princess.

"All you need is a tiara and you'd look like a queen in that outfit"

I don't need to turn around to know that's Kazuo. The little cry-baby from the reaping somehow turned out to be a cocky little bastard. The first time I tried to say something to him on the way here all I got was 'don't care, leave me alone', yet now he's complimenting me. Ha, maybe he finally fell for my feminine charm. A queen though...yes that feels far more worthy of attention than a princess. Maybe I can waste some time on him then.

"Speaking to me now are we? How kind dear" I say, sugar-coating my words. He just smirks in return.

"Oh yes, how kiiiind"

"Must you?"

"Must I what?"

"Sing"

"Sing whaaaaat?"

"Sing everything you think I want to hear, last I checked you were a tribute trainer, not a bard" I say. In truth I do find it annoying, grating, aggravating even. It's hard to believe there are people that actually act like this. But I don't want to let anything on so I plaster on a smile to which he chuckles.

"How do you know I didn't want to be a bard?" he challenges.

"You look better suited to be a prince"

It's not a total lie this time. His blue military style suit seems reminiscent of royalty. If he had a crown he'd almost look like a king.

"What? Not a king? You get to be a queen"

"Fine, fine" I say though I don't much agree. One may have a crown but that doesn't necessarily mean they deserve it. Kazuo is such a perfect example of this. Though he's from the richest area of the Capitol, and although he may have desired looks, but I don't think he even understands his own established personality. One moment he's broken down, the next he's a callous being and then he masks it all with a flirtatious façade. If as many women saw through that act as I did then his performance would be far less effective. Ugh, this is why I don't believe in romance. I on the other hand would fit a crown suitably, which I will have when this tiresome ordeal is over and done with. At least I know how to build an unbreakable façade.

Kazuo seems to have gotten bored of our conversation and has gone to converse with the muscled man from area five, no doubt another tribute trainer like himself. It's only a few moments of watching them talk a blue streak on useless information that I begin to realise he's left me here alone. Our stylist has yet to make an actual appearance before the parade, and the assistants finished up with their job some time ago, leaving us here to wait. In all directions I see tributes, friends and enemies alike talking, socialising with someone, but not me. The small radius of silence encloses around my being, tightening, enhancing claustrophobic feelings. I can't stand it; I can't stand being ignored like this. My gaze lingers back to see a young lady has joined Kazuo and the guy from five. She's smiling, laughing at the comments of the other two. I want what she has. Taking a breath I put back on the plastic smile and elegantly stride over to interrupt their conversation.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Kazuo?" I ask sweetly. He smiles at me.

"Uh, sure. They're both tribute trainers like me. The big guy from five here is Slate…" he starts, gesturing at the handsome, muscled man clad in a glowing suit. He casually looks me over, a smirk plastered on his face "and this is Delilah, she's young but she's as strong as the other trainers already" he states confidently, indicating the blonde girl who looks at me. She cringes at Kazuo's words, her smile becoming strained with a growing look of discomfort as she too looks me over.

"Something wrong dear?" I ask her, my sweet words laced with invisible venom.

"Oh? No, it's nothing" she says "I just, I should probably get back to my area partner now" she mumbles before slinking away like a dog that's just been punished. I smile, feeling victorious over the defeat of my competition for attention. Kazuo stands by, looking confused at her departure, whereas Slate doesn't even seem to care that she's left; he seems solely focused on me. It's so obvious it's almost pathetic.

Yet, it's also enticing. I could have some fun with this; use it to my advantage if you will. I consider perhaps a little flirting but he's suddenly recalled by his stylist for some hair adjustments, so for now I just smile, wave and leave off with a little wink. I guess the real fun will start later.

* * *

_Adrian Maverick, 24, Area 9, Tribute Trainer_

I am about to experience the most nightmarish situation of my entire life. Thousands upon thousands of my fellow capitol people, their eyes fixated on me as I'm awkwardly paraded through their line of vision in a golden chariot in a ridiculous tunic woven from fake wheat. Still, I suppose it's not like I don't get stared at on a regular basis for what I wear or what I'm doing. It could be my challenging sense of fashion that often opposes typical conceptions. It could be my skilled displays of archery during training sessions. People always seem to find some reason or another to make me the centre of attention. I don't necessarily want it, though I cannot come to hate the people around me for any given reason, however I find it difficult to embrace their enthusiasm. Some of the time they want to know more about my style, they want to know how to incorporate it into their lives. As patient and caring as I am for them I just…can't. If I were to teach them anything then it would no longer be my unique style; I'd have lost one of the traits that make me unique. With my lack of other favourable traits like bravery and inability to detach myself from 'Panem's scum' my unique sense of style is all I have to establish an image of me that people like. Especially now of all times I need this most. I'm hoping many of the sponsors in the audience will remember or know me, surely giving me a boost in the competition. I've told tributes time and time again, survival is about the strength, the knowledge and the sharp wits. Unfortunately a lot of it is also about the image. To the sponsors it's all about who's the best looking, who's the cutest, who's the coolest, who stands out. In that respect many of the tributes past have had an equal chance in that respect. The capitol people have never known them or anything about them, essentially giving them a chance to reinvent themselves to pander to the audience. We don't exactly get that chance. Many of us here already have established portraits of ourselves that are known across the capitol, myself included. In that respect, some of us have already won. Then you have the ones like my area partner Delilah, who are relatively new in their career, young and only just starting to make a name for themselves. Yeah, people like her are going to be cut down like grass. In a way I wish I could do something about it, but as I said I'm lacking in many good traits, people skills included.

Overhead the words "five minutes until first chariot!" boom in the overhead speaker. From beyond the doors I hear excitement cheers echo.

"I guess this is it, huh? Where it all begins" Delilah wistfully says.

"I suppose so, after this we all become bloodthirsty lambs thrown to the slaughter, one on one until a single victor remains" I reply morbidly, my voice sounding a little scared of its own words. Delilah seems unfazed however.

"It's not always necessarily one on one" she says, looking me dead in the eye.

"Hmm?" I say feigning disinterest. I feel like I know where she's going with this and I'd much rather not be involved with the idea. Nonetheless she continues to speak.

"You see tributes make alliances all the time. True, many of them barely hold it together, since trust is a major issue, but sometimes you see a pair or a small group that make things work for the better. I remember last year a young boy and girl I trained, from two completely different districts, were able to make their differing knowledge work in unison. It's a shame they both got killed off, but they sure lasted a hell of a long time"

Delilah sighs deeply, letting the words sink in. Making differences work huh. It makes me realise how different the two of us are. We're both tribute trainers, yet she has all the courage and optimism that I don't. I suppose if that was coupled with my observational skills and strength we could be a pretty powerful team.

Am I hearing myself right now? She'd never ally with me, it's not like I have a reputation for being friendly. Still though, her words seem to imply an interest in alliances. It could be worth asking.

Scrap that, it WOULD be worth asking. I may be strong physically and I may have the popularity but once we get to the 'kill everything' stage I'll be as useful as a lemon.

"Would you…consider being in an alliance?" I ask her casually.

"Maybe" she shrugs "why, are you asking?"

"Maybe"

She smiles a little, and somehow I'm washed over with a feeling that she could be just the ally that I need.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't mind it; you seem like someone I can trust"

"Haha, likewise"

"Well, then it's settled Adrian, you and I are now allies" she states happily, reaching out a hand to shake. Her smile broadens into more of a grin than before and suddenly I find myself trusting it less. I've gotten myself into this though; it could be a great opportunity, I can't back out now.

So, I take her hand, trying my best to smile too.

* * *

_Danté Ligna, 23, Area 11, Tribute Trainer (Hand-to-Hand Combat)_

I smirk at the stylist and his crew of prep assistants slink away as the chariot readies for its departure. I think they've had just about enough of me today. Ha, tough because they'll be seeing me again later. I've complained, I've fought back, I've probably made their lives hell today all for the sake of my own needs. It's not like they're the ones about to be carted off into chaos. I just wanted to ensure that even in a dire situation such as this I can have things my way. If I just passively sit by and let them control me then I'm as good as a corpse in the arena.

The more they control me the more they break me.

It's not like I'm the only one that's been causing them trouble though. 'Fabs' as he's told me to call him has his own smirk plastered on. He's been hurling his own fierceness their way all morning just for his own personal comfort as well, although they broke down a little easier in his presence. Somehow I'm not surprised. From what I remember the man's a game maker, a status higher than they are, so he must demand respect. Hell, he has my respect. I'm just glad my area partner isn't some pansy who can't throw a right hook. Not like they'd throw one better than me; it's my job after all. No, what I wouldn't want is someone who couldn't fight back for themselves. I couldn't forgive someone like that, someone who wallows in their despair without even a little desire for something better.

The chariot suddenly jolts and it seems we're finally following behind the others, area twelve trundling along behind his. Fabs gives me a harsh nudge.

"Smile or something, I don't want us to look weak"

Weak. The singular mention of the words punctures my chest but I push it aside. Instead I raise my hand high and wave vigorously, smirking again. As we come into sight of the cameras and the brilliantly colourful crowd they scream, whistle and cheer at our presence. A few shout our names, those that have probably met us. Three of the voice echoing my name ring out clear in my head with names; my friends Hayra, Kaylen and Folia. Thy promised me before today they'd do all they can to be there for me. It's hard to sift them out of the crowd but their voices alone fill the cracks in my confidence, reminding me again of my winning chances. My smirk grows stronger and I almost can't contain myself, my hair waving wildly as I raise both hands to wave at the adoring crowd. We eventually gather with the others around the courtyard below the balcony where the president presides. I gather a glance at the rest of the competition. Many seem to be putting on brave faces or faked smiles, whereas others seem to be lacking in confidence giving my own ego a little boost. However, I then catch a flashing stare from Fabs. His eyes burned with something befitting jealousy, anger or spite.

The image of his eyes fades as I'm snapped away from them by the echoing tap on the microphone above. We all crane our necks skyward to our overbearing president. I hear a few angry mutters as the white haired lady herself takes to the microphone. She coughs then speaks softly.

"Welcome all, my friends and tributes, to the 100th Games. I understand many of you may not be entirely enthusiastic about this year's special quell. Yes, many of us here will be losing close friends and dear family…"

The mention of both those things makes me sick to my stomach.

"…however, I assure you this all for the greater future of Panem. We must all look ahead of and amend for our past mistakes, and for that my tributes I salute your bravery in being the ones to honour this sacrifice for this cause. Happy hunger games, and may the odds be ever your favour"

She bows and leaves the stage, followed by twenty four piercing eyes. The chariots are pulled away instantaneously, I can only imagine before some sort of riot breaks out. We're pulled back behind the scenes and unsurprisingly only our escort is waiting for us. He extends a hand to help me off the chariot, his other hand patting my back in affection.

"That was fabulous! Simply fabulous Danté! Your enthusiasm back there is sure to get you lots of sponsors!" He excitedly twitters on. Fabs jumps down from the chariot landing beside. Our escort jumps.

"Oh, Fabs inded you were fabulous too, you looked strong! I'm sure the ladies will be all over you like usual"

Fabs smirks and waves it off. Our escort clasps his hands together.

"Right! I suppose we should be getting you two to your rooms now, I doubt Honey will be coming back to see you anytime soon, anyway chop chop let's go!"

As we start following behind Fabs leans down close to my ear and whispers something.

"You're a pretty girl Danté, but don't upstage me again, because I'm the one who'll be winning this, you may look strong out there but deep down I bet you're just a weak, frightened little girl"

With that he moves away and strides ahead, leaving me stranded as his words echo again and again in my mind.

* * *

_Otho Plautinus, 29, Area 7, Prep Team Assistant_

I could nearly cry over the outfit they made me wear today. I know we were reaped and all, but I thought that since we were from the capitol we'd get some super special flashy outfits or something. You know, something rich and fantastically befitting of someone in such an exclusive position as the prep team assistant's assistant.

No. Someone thought it was a fun idea to match our areas to the districts. I could have in something glamorous like district one. I mean, their guy got to dress like a prince! But nooooo, I have to be area seven, and what did that mean?

Freaking. Trees. I was just paraded in front of the whole nation dressed as a freaking tree!

Damn it, my chance to shine and show everyone how great I can be, and I show them my ability to stand there and pretend my fabricated leaves aren't itchy as hell. I just hope my big smile put up a good impression. I think my area partner Belle agrees with me, since her pretty young face didn't look too impressed either. Then again she always seems to look like that. I don't think she's very good with other people.

She's even sitting as far across the other end of the couch to me as she can possibly sit, filing her nails. If she moved over any further she'd fall off. Ugh, all this complaining has made me hungry. I turn to the pale skinned avox standing at the door.

"Hey, do your job and bring me some cake" I demand. The avox nods and hurriedly rushes to the kitchen. Damn right.

"I think I can see why you got so fat, you should really cut down on the sweets" Belle quietly says, not looking up from her filing. How dare she!

"I'll eat what I want, thank you very much! You have no place to tell me what to do" I scold her. She doesn't reply but I feel less superior as she lowers the nail file and her pretty face twists into a frown. Suddenly I feel quite guilty for doing that to such a pretty face.

"It…it was just a suggestion" she mumbles. Damn it, it's always the pretty ones that get to me. The avox interrupts the awkward silence as she delivers my cake. She stands awkwardly by, holding the cake in front of me. I just look at it and see a closet full of my nice clothes. Clothes that I'll probably outgrow. Again.

Internally I sigh, but I turn up my nose in disgust at the avox.

"I don't want it anymore, take it away"

The avox slowly retracts the plate and walks away. Goodbye cake.

"Why did you do that?" Belle asks softly, just a little confused.

"I didn't like seeing your pretty face all sad like that, and I guess you may have a point or something. If I'm gonna be famous I should probably lose a bit of weight, not like you have to worry about that or anything, I bet people fawn over you all the time, you'll have it pretty easy here for a while, not as easy as me mind you because I'm going to take these games by storm" I prattle on, the whole time being partially watched by Belle's doe-eyed face. Her eyes seem to flicker nervously around the room. When they eventually catch mine they lock on in an uncomfortable staring contest.

"You…really think I'm pretty?" She asks innocently enough.

"Yeah, why not? You seem to spend enough time on your appearance to make it worth it, but I bet you probably look pretty still under the makeup, and I'm on the prep team so I should know" I announce smugly.

"Um, thank you I guess" she mutters "I, uh, I have to go now" she mutters before getting up and leaving.

Great, now I'm alone. Well, alone beside the avox. I lean back into the sofa and close my eyes, breathing out a sigh. The image of her pretty face is still going round my mind, but it makes me think about the quality of gorgeous people I have at my disposal. Now I think about it there's a good selection of pretty girls and guys I've seen so far. Let's see, I guess there was that area twelve girl. She's quite young but that hair flower brought out her beautifully dark eyes. Oh, then there's that handsome man from five. Mmm I wouldn't mind those muscles holding me at night. Oh his area partner was just as but speaking of handsome men there's also that area four guy, Winn or something? I wonder if he's still wearing that skimpy little number he had on earlier. Ha, maybe I should visit him.

...

There's quite a few beautiful people here huh. Beautiful people with higher up jobs.

Damn it, I'm in trouble.

* * *

**So, thanks to some wonderful words of encouragement that I truly appreciate I've decided to continue with this, and I hope people do enjoy this story as it progresses, because I'm certainly having fun with these characters.**

**Also, I thought I might as well advertise that I have another SYOT going at the moment called Rust and Stardust. The first chapter is up, as well as some information and the tribute form on my profile. It's not linked to the universe of this story. **

**Anyway, here's some questions about this chapter:**

_**1) What do you think of the chapter?**_

**_2) What do you think of these tributes? Whose your favourites/least favourites?_**

**_3) Random question of the day-If you were in the hunger games, what district would you live in? Or would you be from the capitol?_**

**Anyway,thanks very much for reading :)**


	7. NEW UPDATE

Once again I am writing to apologise for my failure to regularly update. Although this has been in part due to emotional and work related struggles, in the past month these have cleared up and have been only due to my lack of motivation. However, recently kind comments from readers and discovering my old work has inspired me once again to return to fanfiction. However, I am unsure of what to do with this story, as well as my other syot Rust and Stardust. As much as I'd like to continue it seems pointless if I have lost readers due to my own negligence.

I've decided to put up a poll which I will run for a week or so to decide the fate of this fanfic and my involvement with syots in general (I will probably post a later poll to decide that however). Anyway, I would appreciate it if you voted on that poll so I know what to do with this story.

Thank you for reading.

Signed Blue Eyes.


	8. Tribute Placements

Though I did love this story when it first started, with all the wonderful characters I received and the new creations and ideas swirling around in my head, unfortunately many things have kept me from continuing this project, and instead of constantly giving false hope and saying I will eventually continue I have accepted the fact that this story will not be finished, partially because of stress, university and losing interest in the fandom. I may eventually come back to Hunger Games fandom, perhaps after the release of the new film but for now I don't think I have the drive to write for it.

However, instead of just forgetting about it completely, I thought I would give you some closure about the characters, so I wrote up the placements and with details on their deaths. Please do tell me what you think of them.

Also, for further understanding, I will explain the arena.

The arena would have been an art gallery specifically related to fashion. The cornucopia would have resided in an outdoor section like a garden in the middle of the gallery, with doors on the edge leading to the inside area. Inside there would be various rooms and hallways displaying various displays of fashion related art, some of which were harmless and others that were dangerous.

* * *

**Bloodbath**

**24th-Klyn Maddox, A6**, Impaled with a spear by **Slate Shield, A5 **when he hesitated and stopped moving just short of the cornucopia

**23rd-Dantè Ligna**, Head bashed in with a hammer by** Destiny Garrison, A2** whom she angered by running into her

**22nd-Lilaia Thomalon, A8**, Strangled and neck snapped by **Raine Davenport, A3** who was fearful that Lilaia would give away her position behind the cornucopia

**21st-Fang Quirentis, A10**, Stabbed in the chest with a hunter's knife by **Charis Hampton, A4** after getting into a fight over supplies, he manages to wound her until she is rescued by **Adrian Maverick, A9** and **Delilah Lèpou, A9**

**20th- Kazuo Helbig, A1**, Throat slit by **Rachelle Adamaris, A1** just as they prepared to run away together

**19th-Ellie Chandler, A6**, Hit in the back of the neck with a throwing knife by **Fabianyz Brunini, A11** whilst attempting to flee the cornucopia

**18th-Winnegan Durai, A4**, Head repeatedly bludgeoned on the side of the cornucopia by **Balthazar Rennon, A2** after getting his foot trapped in the cornucopia

**Day 1**

**17th-Fabianyz Brunini, A11**, Hacked at with a halberd from a seemingly lifeless suit of armour after poking fun at it

**16th-Belle Windchime, A7**, Strangled with wire by **Eponine Delacour, A12** who tricks her into believing strong tributes are coming to kill them, running off to a quiet, secluded area

**Day 2**

**15th-Eponine Delacour, A12**,Stabbed in the chest with a hunter's knife by **Charis Hampton, A4** and given a fatal head injury by being knocked to the floor by **Adrian Maverick, A9**, after running into their alliance where she fights Charis and Adrian, dealing near fatal injuries to them both

**14th-Adrian Maverick, A9**, Dies during the night from his wounds from the fight when **Delilah Lèpou, A9** decides to use the med kit from her sponsor on **Charis Hampton, A4** instead

**Day 3**

**13th-Slate Shield, A5**, Overpowered by **Destiny Garrison, A2** and fatally wounded with a machete by **Balthazar Rennon, A2** after getting into fight with them about leadership among the alliance

**12th-Alara Florent, A5**, Beaten to death by living mannequins after becoming trapped in a room with them

**11th-Nerice Arcand, A10**, Neck snapped by **Osiris Kray, A3** whilst trying to steal his supplies during the night

**Day 4**

**10th-Leonardo Carter, A8**, Falls into insanity and commits suicide by consuming nightlock he received from the cornucopia after encountering realistic mannequins depicting his fiancé and son's bodies mangled and dead

**Day 5**

**9th-Balthazar Rennon, A2**, Sliced whilst running by razor sharp wires that lash out from the walls and quickly consume one half of the indoor part of the arena whilst split from his allies to hunt for tributes

**8th-Raine Davenport, A3**, Quickly sliced in the throat by the razor wire event that that covers half of the indoor part of the arena

**7th-Delilah Lèpou, A9**, Torn to shreds when she trips whilst trying to escape the razor wire event, yelling at **Charis Hampton, A4** to keeping running

**6th-Destiny Garrison, A2**, Pushed into the now fixed in place razor wires by **Antonius Forscue, A12**, whilst they hunt for tributes, growing weary of their alliance

**Day 6**

**5th-Rachelle Adamaris, A1**, Heart ripped out of her chest by living mannequins resembling the people she hates and has betrayed that now roam the other half of the indoor arena

**4th-Otho Plautinus, A7**, Ripped into by the living mannequins after dropping his hat, and after the thought crosses his mind about stopping to get it, realises there is now way he can outrun them anyway, so picks up his hat, puts in on and awaits his death

**3rd-Osiris Kray, A3**, After escaping the living mannequins and making in to the garden of the cornucopia he is eventually struck down with an arrow to the chest by **Antonius Forscue, A12** after getting into a brutal fight with him

**2nd-Antonius Forscue, A12**, After escaping the living mannequins and killing **Osiris Kray, A3**, he hesitates a minute too long and is stabbed in the back by **Charis Hampton, A4** with a sword left behind at the cornucopia

**1st-Charis Hampton, A4**, Able to persevere through life threatening wounds, razor wire traps and vicious mannequin she was able to summon the courage to deal a final blow to **Antonius Forscue, A9** and win, after winning she was offered a promotion at her job from low-level gamemaker to head gamemaker, which at first she refuses but eventually takes on after consideration and persuasion


End file.
